


My Remedy

by Moons_of_Avalon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean (17), Dean is In Over His Head, Little Sammy (13), M/M, No Sex, PWP, Weecest, Wet Dream, Wincest - Freeform, first time masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moons_of_Avalon/pseuds/Moons_of_Avalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up to find his baby brother in a compromising situation. He really should just let it go and forget it ever happened, but when Sam starts giving him those puppy dog eyes, really what choice does he have but to help out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Clarity" by Zedd (though I highly recommend the cover by Sam Tsui) because it is a perfect Wincest song and I cry
> 
>  
> 
> Also friendly reminder that reviews are love!

Dean’s usually the kind of guy to sleep through anything. He’s stayed asleep through trains, screaming arguments, an all out gang fight in the motel parking lot…a tornado could tear through the building next door and and he probably wouldn’t even turn over in bed.

But for every rule there is of course an exception.

And Sam is Dean's exception.

Sam needing his help is the sort of thing Dean can just sense, no matter how exhausted or out of it he might be. The tiniest whimper from his baby brother having a nightmare and Dean’s wide awake, ready to protect. He’d been a lot more attentive when Sam was younger, actually getting out of bed to check on the smaller boy and calm him down so he could sleep again. But once Sam had gotten to about eight, and Dean had gotten to about puberty, he dialed it back to merely grumbling from across the room that it was going to be ok and that they needed to sleep. But never had he lost the ability to wake up when Sam needed him, even if under normal circumstances he could sleep through a nuclear holocaust.

That’s what makes it especially odd when he wakes up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. It’s quiet, but not unsettlingly so, and Sam doesn’t seem to be awake. Dean should be sleeping like a log, but he’s not. 

“Sammy?” It’s just a precaution really and he isn’t surprised when he doesn’t get a verbal response, just soft muttering and the sound of his brother shifting in his bed. Nevertheless, Dean’s never woken up in the middle of the night for no reason before, so, begrudgingly, he rolls onto his side and fumbles for the switch to turn on the bedside lamp. 

Sure enough, Sam’s in bed on his stomach, with the covers half kicked off, and facing the opposite wall. Nothing unusual. Dean’s about to shrug the whole thing off and go back to sleep, until he notices that Sam’s pillow isn’t under the boy’s head.

It’s wedged between his legs…

Underneath his steadily rocking hips.

Dean freezes, hand still on the switch for the lamp as he watches his baby brother, his little Sammy, deep in in the throes of what appears to be a very exciting wet dream. Faint gasps and moans seem to become louder and louder in the otherwise silent room as Dean recognizes them for what they are and feels his stomach drop.

He supposes that he shouldn’t be all that surprised. After all, Sam’s thirteen, about the same age that Dean was when he started having those sorts of dreams…

But fuck if he knows how to handle this. It’s not exactly the sort of thing life prepares you for. No one pulls you aside in school and tells you what to do if you wake up to see the little sibling you basically raised getting off in the bed next to yours.

This needs to not be happening.

He needs to turn off the light and pretend this isn’t happening.

He needs to repress this entire memory so deep into his psyche that it might as well have never happened.

And he’s about to do just that, when Sam suddenly turns and the light from the lamp falls onto his face. On the sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushing bright red, and his lips hanging open as he whines low and long. It’s enough of a shock to make Dean go still again, and, within a spilt second, the light shining on Sam’s eyes is enough to make him open them.

And the they’re both frozen. Frozen and staring at each other and if Dean thought that watching his little brother get off was bad, then watching his little brother realize that he’s been watching him get off is nothing short of world-ending.

“Oh my god…” Sam whimpers, his face somehow managing to turn an even brighter shade of red than it had already been. Dean opens his mouth to say something, anything to make Sammy feel even a little bit ok about all this, but before he can even get a word out, Sam is tearing out of bed and into the bathroom, where he slams the door shut and locks it with a resolute snap.

Dean sighs heavily, flopping back down on the bed and muttering “Fuck.”  That’s really the only word for this. He shakes his head and considers resuming his plan of letting Sam take care of himself while he tries to forget that this ever happened…that is until he hears a soft sob from behind the bathroom door. 

Sam is crying.

Fuck.

Fuck this. Fuck everything. Just fuck because Dean has never been able to deal with Sam crying. He can’t let this go and just allow his little brother feel this awful and embarrassed about something that he can’t help.

“Come on, Sammy…” he groans, hauling himself out of bed and across the room to lean against the bathroom door. He can still hear the crying, but it’s gotten softer, like Sam’s trying to muffle the sound, and it’s punctuated by weak sniffling. “Don't be like that…”

“Go away!” Dean flinches at the words, but just sighs again.

“Look I just don’t want you freaking out about this. Yeah it’s a little weird…” It's way more than a little weird, but hey, Sam doesn’t need to know that. He forces a lightness into his voice that he doesn’t really feel. “But you’re turnin’ into a man now, you know? This kind of stuff is gonna happen.” There’s still no response, but he presses for one. “Would you just open the door, Sammy? I wanna make sure you’re alright.”

It’s silent for a long few moments before the lock clicks and the door opens a crack to reveal half of Sam’s still blushing face. Dean does his best to grin. “Hey, kiddo,” he smiles. “You gonna come out and go back to bed? It’s damn unnatural to be awake this early.”

Sam just blushes again and shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably and looking away. Dean’s eyes go wide as he glances down and realizes why. “Oh…jesus…” As if they needed more trauma. “Just uh…you know, take care of it like usual. I’ll be out here.” He turns pretty quickly, not ready to look Sam in the eye after that, but stops short when he feels a hand grasping his wrist. Sam’s still got such little, soft hands…

“Wait…” the boy pleads, and Dean’s got no choice but to turn and face him.

“Yeah?”

There’s another long pause and it looks like Sam’s biting down on the insides of his cheeks. “I’ve never…I don’t…” He’s bright red again. “I-it usually takes care of itself?”

Dean’s mind short circuits as it tries to wrap around that. His brother, _his_ brother, has never…?! “Hold on, you’re telling me you’ve never jerked off? Seriously?” He’s only shocked, but the laughing tone is just a bit to accusatory for adolescent ears. Before Dean knows it he’s getting a door slammed in his face once again. 

“Son of a— come on, Sam, I didn’t mean it like that!” He gets no response, but at least the boy didn’t think to lock the door this time. Sam’s leaning over the sink when Dean nudges the door open, nails digging painfully against the hard edges of the counter as he grips it for support. The tension in his shoulders rises as Dean’s eyes pass over them, as if he can feel the gaze and is doing his very best to shrug it off. He’s failing…

“If you’re just gonna make fun of me, go away.”

“I’m not makin’ fun of you, Sammy,” Dean sighs. “It’s just… Damn it, I don’t know what it is.” He leans against the doorframe, shoulders hunched, eyes turned up to the ceiling. Where the hell is their dad when shit like this goes down? He’s not Sammy’s father, he’s not prepared to give the talk. Especially since he never really got one… 

It’s a soft pressure against his chest that makes him look down, and he’s surprised to see Sammy leaning his head against him, tousled mop of hair hiding his face. Dean knows he’s still flushed though, he can feel the heat through his shirt.

“It’s ok…” Sam sighs and Dean has to smile a little. Can’t stay mad with Sam around. He rests his hand on the kid’s hair, which is getting a little too long, and ruffles it slightly, pulling a laugh from his little brother. For a moment everything’s ok, things the way they always should be…until Sam leans against him more and he feels the kid’s hard-on rub against his thigh. 

Luckily, Sam panics first, leaping back, hands between his legs, face burning. “Why won’t it go down!”

“Because it wants attention and you’re not giving any.” Dean can be concerned later about why it’s begun to feel less weird to talk about all this; in the meantime he has to deal with Sam sinking to the floor and whining in frustration and embarrassment, hands still firmly wedged between his legs.

“It’s usually gone by the time I wake up…” he mutters, laying it out this time. Uncertainty always loosens his tongue around Dean. “And then there’s a mess…”

“Yeah, I meant to ask…how many times has this happened?”

Sam shrugs, looking away. “Just a couple. You and dad weren’t here so I’d just hide the pillow under the bed…”

Dean rolls his eyes. Smart kid. He kneels down, taking Sam by the shoulders. “Well I get why, ok? But it’s not something you need to be embarrassed about, everybody does it. Though most guys take care of it when they’re awake so you don’t have to worry about cleaning up in the middle of the night.”

Dean’s getting really sick of these long pauses, but still finds it in him to smile when Sam finally raises his head to look at him. If it’s something Sammy needs, he’ll always manage it. But the young man’s heart just about stops in his chest at what the boy has to say: “Can you show me how?”

Can you show me how…

Can you show me how?!

Jesus Christ, does this kid have any idea, any idea at all what he’s asking for?!

The look in Sam’s wide eyes tells Dean right away that no, no he doesn’t. He has no idea why it’s an absolutely terrible fucking idea to ask your older brother to show you how to jack off. But fuck if Dean has ever been able to say no to those big puppy dog eyes that look up at him like he’s the best damn thing to ever walk the earth. Eyes that see more in him than anyone else ever has… The words are out before he has a chance to think about stopping them.

“Yeah, if you want.” He knows it’s maybe the worst idea he’s ever had, but if Sam doesn’t know that then maybe it won’t be so bad. “Bed’s gonna be a little more comfortable.” Slowly, he stands up and pulls Sam with him, guiding the boy out of the bathroom and towards his bed, which Sam crawls onto obediently before turning to look up at Dean with those damn eyes, legs slightly spread to reveal the curve of his arousal pressed up against his sweatpants.

He’s got no idea…

“Uh…just…stay there,” Dean mutters as he gets on the bed as well, sitting with his back against the headboard. But like usual, Sam’s not so good at following orders and moves closer as soon as Dean’s still until he’s between his legs, eyes as big and sweet as ever.

Dean is fucked and he knows it.

He takes Sam by the waist and turns him around so maybe those eyes won’t have to bore straight into his soul as he signs this deal with the devil, but Sam just leans back against him and really that’s no better. Dean has to close his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. It’s for Sam. It’s just for Sam, just because his baby brother asked for his help. He can’t say no to that. 

“You’re gonna use your hand, ok?” It doesn’t even sound like his own voice when he starts to talk, but Sam doesn’t seem to be aware of his brother’s internal struggle. “It’s easier if it’s wet. Lot’s of guys use lotion or something, but spit works just as well if you get enough of it.” He nearly laughs when Sam makes a face at that. Of course. “Hey, man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” Sam rolls his eyes and brings his hand up to his mouth, but he doesn’t spit.

No, that would’ve been too easy.

His way too fucking innocent baby brother starts to lick, slowly and steadily, all over his hand, coating his palm and each finger one by one as his little pink tongue sneaks out of his mouth over and over.

Fuck.

Dean doesn’t know how long that goes on, but it’s like a slap in the face when Sam’s tongue disappears back into his mouth and his hand disappears down his pants without hesitation. Dean sees Sam’s hand form a fist and—goddamnit—he _feels_ the boy jolt and gasp at the contact.

“Good…” he whispers, shaking himself a little. “Good. Now, move your hand up and down, nice and slow at first, ok?” Sam nods, and his face screws up into a funny little frown as his hand starts to move, a furrow forming on his brow. “How’s that feel, Sammy?”

“G-good?” the boy murmurs, but Dean’s not convinced. And that’s unsettling. It’s only a few seconds before Sam pulls his hand back and shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know!” 

Dean frowns but doesn’t say anything at first, resting his hands on Sam’s shoulders and squeezing gently. Sam’s already got faint muscle lining his thin frame thanks to all their training, and every inch is hard as a rock under Dean’s hands. “You’re all tensed up, you’ve got to relax, ok? It’s about feeling good.” He catches a glimpse of Sam’s face, still twisted into a nervous, confusion and sighs. They could be here a long time like this. “Hey, don’t worry so much. I’ll—” He can’t believe he’s doing this. “I’ll help, just close your eyes.”

Sam glances back at him, his eyes searching. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna show you the right way to do it. Just trust me, ok?” For a moment, Dean prays that Sam is going to see sense and say no. Pull away and go back into his own bed. But he’s not so lucky. After a second of consideration, Sam’s leaning back against him again, eyes closed as his head rests against Dean’s shoulder.

It’s not as if Dean didn’t already know he was going to end up in hell.

“Try to remember what you were dreaming about,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing Sam’s shoulders again before sliding slowly down the boy’s arms. Dean closes his own eyes for a moment when he feels Sam relax under his touch, as if that’s all the boy was really waiting for. “Focus just on that, nothing else matters.” His hands are moving to Sam’s chest now, and the boy sucks in a breath when his shirt gets pulled up just enough to allow Dean’s hands to slip underneath, stroking slowly up his slim body. He arches when Dean’s fingers brush over his nipples, and Dean swears that the moan it pulls out of him is the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. And maybe he should be worried about that, but right now he just can’t be bothered. He pulls up Sam’s shirt until the fabric’s bunched just under the boy’s chin and he can see that Sam’s flushed all the way down to his navel, nipples a darker pink than the rest of him as Dean pinches them and pulls a whimper from Sam’s lips. 

“Thinking about somebody real pretty, weren’t you?” Dean teases. He keeps one hand tugging and rubbing at the hard pink nubs that Sam seems to like having touched so much as his other hand travels down, fingertips brushing over Sam’s stomach, where he feels the muscle flutter under his touch, and then down further. He doesn’t touch Sam’s cock, but strokes his thigh instead. Sam cries out like he’s in pain, but the way he’s started to grip Dean’s thighs says otherwise. Dean can’t seem to stop talking. “Somebody you saw at school? Maybe that blond girl I saw you grinning at the other day? I figured you were sweet on her or something…” 

He trails off when Sam shakes his head, whining softly. “No…” he protests, and Dean chuckles. 

“Alright, not her. Who then? Who’re you dreamin’ about, baby boy?” he teases, smirking when Sam shakes his head. “This is one hell of a time to be feelin’ shy, Sammy.”

“Dean…!” Hearing Sam whine his name like that is like nothing Dean’s ever experienced before and he falters, gripping Sam a little too tight as he steadies himself. But the boy doesn’t seem to mind at all and opens his eyes to look up at Dean with an expression that just about breaks his older brother’s heart with it’s sweetness. “Dean, stop teasing! It hurts!”

“Ok, ok, calm down,” Dean whispers, raising his hand to run it through Sam’s hair, the way he used to when he was trying to get the boy to fall back asleep. Sam just bites his lip and keeps squirming, his hips rocking up against nothing. “It’s gonna hurt if I do it with my hand dry—”

Before he can even finish Sam’s got his mouth open, and is grabbing Dean’s wrist, bringing his brother’s hand to his mouth. Dean just about loses it then and there as he watches his little brother’s tongue press wet and warm in long strokes along his palm before wrapping around his fingers one by one. Sam’s breath is coming out in needy little whimpers and he hasn’t stopped squirming, as if sucking on his brother’s fingers is just as good as being touched. That thought is enough to make Dean groan, and when Sam looks up at him with questioning eyes he doesn’t look away, just leans down as presses his lips to Sam’s. The boy gasps but doesn’t pull back, moaning softly as he tries to match his brother’s kissing. He usually fails but the innocence of his trying is good enough for Dean, who smiles as he slips his hand down his brother’s pants and doesn’t hesitate to grasp his cock. Sam’s whole body jerks as he cries out again, eyes going wide as he looks up at Dean.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby boy?” Dean purrs as he starts to stroke Sam slowly, smirking when the boy’s legs clamp around his hand, his body too overwhelmed and inexperienced to know how to move.

“Uh-huh…” is all Sam can manage to get out between his panting and whining, his eyes still locked on Dean’s like he’s hypnotized. 

Maybe he is… Hell, maybe they both are. Dean’s body and voice seems to act of his own accord, but no part of him is protesting now.

“Gonna take good care of you,” Dean whispers and suddenly he’s leaning in close again, close enough that their lips are touching and he can feel Sam’s breath as it passes from his lips with each little gasp. “You’re gonna feel so good, baby, not gonna know what hit you…”

“Dean…Dean!” He’s not sure when Sam’s moans turned into his name, but he can’t question it, pressing kisses to Sam’s face and hair as he holds him tightly, his hand moving faster on the boy’s cock as Sam squirms and cries out in his lap. He’s a mess of sweat and arousal, with his shirt still rucked up and his hair sticking to his face when he throws his head back, and it’s the most beautiful thing Dean’s ever seen. His baby brother, coming apart for the first time as he holds him. 

It doesn’t last long, not surprising considering Sam’s age, but it’s still perfect as Sam’s back bows up, his nails digging into Dean’s skin where he’s clinging to him as he cries and let’s go. Wetness covers Dean’s hand as he keeps moving it up and down, pumping Sam for every last drop he’s got until the boy is whimpering and shaking, eyes unfocused as he continues to hold onto Dean like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

Dean pulls his hand back slowly, wrapping both arms tight around Sam and keeping silent as he holds him through the aftershocks. Sam’s gonna be spoiled, he thinks to himself with a wry smile. It’s always better when someone else is there with you.

“Doin’ ok?” he whispers once Sam’s breathing is back to normal and he’s stopped shaking. He’s still perfectly relaxed though, like putty in Dean’s arms, and Dean can’t help but be pretty pleased with that.

“Y-yeah,” Sam whispers in reply, tilting his head up to look at Dean. Those eyes are as dangerous as ever, so trusting and warm and sweet. Dean’s inevitable guilt spiral is held off a little longer by that look as he smiles, running his hand through Sam’s hair again. “I’m tired…”

“Yeah, that tends to happen,” he chuckles, slowly pulling his arms from around Sam. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then catch a couple more hours of sleep, what do you say?”

Once Sam is asleep, Dean will be free to have a panic attack over the fact that he just molested his little brother. Over the fact that Sam liked it. Over the fact that he’s now stuck with a raging erection from watching his little brother come and feeling his little brother’s ass rub against his cock.

But for right now, he just needs to keep Sam smiling. Smiling, and feeling safe, and looking up at him with eyes that say I love you, I trust you…

That’s what big brothers are for, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumble at moonsofavalon.tumblr.com!


End file.
